All over the radio & TV this morning. The wise & good laying into GPs for
not diagnosing cancer early enough. Cheers.
One bloke - Prof Somone-or-other (heard on Radio 5) reckoned the answer lay
in better training and the use of decision-making software.
Fan-bloody-tastic.
Now then, when shall I find time to do all this?
Today, I had to present myself (and my completed form, and my passport, and
my driving licence and a recent utility bill) to the criminal records people
(along with every other GP in the PCT area). One part of the form I signed
indicated that my details could be passed to anyone they thought might need
them. Great.
Did you hear about the DVLC worker who was sent down for 5m for passing on
the details of a farmer to animal rights activists.
Isn't it great living in a country with such a concerned nanny - er, bloke,
I mean - at the head?
This week, there have been a succession (sp?) of calls from social workers
wanting me to do something (YESTERDAY!) in what amounts to desk-clearing
manouevres.
So, they don't trust us, and they don't think we know enough about anything,
but when the chips are down and no-one else knows what to do (or no one else
can be arsed to do anything) who do you call?
GHOSTBUSTERS!!!
No! Your local (not so friendly anymore - at least, not this week) GP.
Ain't it grand to feel wanted? It just gives you a warm feeling all over. Or
maybe that's the feeling of warm urine trickling down my leg as my
sphincters give up in rage.
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